Les Enfants Terrible

http://www.femininecollective.com/les-enfants-terribles/?utm_campaign=crowdfire&utm_content=crowdfire&utm_medium=social&utm_source=social#2195478619-tw#1497834079543#2195478619-tw#1497834330095

 

Hello everyone,

 

Excited to share a new poem with you. Click on link above. I am also excited to announce that I will be a new member of SD, (Sudden Denouement) a first rate literary collective.

 

Much love and gratitude,

Christina Strigas

 

 

The Fire of my Storm

Inside my chest

is a raging child

she buckles up her seat belt

and waits for the accident

it is coming

it always does.
I remember her at six

how the piano freed her soul

and anger burned her wings

in burial grounds

where her mother met her fate.

This storm inside her at sixteen

tore apart all her friendships

these addictions to people

taught her about toxicity.

Now at thirty-four

she sleeps alone

and waits for the shores

of her youth to be

taken by the roads she missed.

She is a calm wave

waiting for her destiny

and lightening.

Spilt Wine

Start the night with wine

in my hair, on my dress,

in my stockings

brand new shoes

bare shoulder

and a few broken

apologies. I saw it

coming too,

and just watched it.

Kind of like life

that was yesterday.

Tonight,

now another bar

another jazz singer

singing the blues

under copper tiled ceilings

and feathers in her hair

you’d think it was suddenly

1920 art deco Paris.

But no,

it’s the house of Jazz

in Laval, Quebec.

Hanging with the girls

who sold my life away.

Do you pay the bill?

Cosmos and red chandeliers

blue bottine in the vitrine

and it’s a wonderful world

in here.

The only thing missing is you

with me.

It makes me cry

you’ll never see

what I see.

Not even pictures

do it justice.

Rita called me

she’ll be 20

minutes late,

god damn Montreal traffic.

It’s fine.

I’ll order another Cosmo

write a poem.

Listen to the jazz singer

and lament

you.

Healing Hugs

 

Everyone needs some healing hugs

that connect us all

without a touch.

One body to love

so hold onto

your mystery

clasp it like a lost key

embrace the wrongs

don’t make them right.

Let your soul flow like your hair on a naked body

want no one

ask no questions.

Sleep poets and dreamers,

do not ask why, do not,

don’t let the bastards get you down.

Are you aware? Are you asleep?

Keep driving, don’t stop at pit stops, they suck you up and never let go of white souls

-Christina Strigas

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Photo by @antoniodjanikian ———————–

#fridayfuckery #longformfriday #streamofconsciousness

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#poem #poetsofig #writing #freeversepoetry #poetrycommunity #poets #poeticsighs #montreal #lovepoems #wordporn

Never Tell

I can never tell who loves me anymore

they like to rehash old shit

from five years ago

when I wasn’t the same person.

They like to pretend they know me

because they read my poems.

I can never tell who needs me anymore

they live their own life

without calling me

or texting me a simple hello.

I can never tell who wants me anymore

they don’t say “i want you”

they ignore me

and make me feel useless

and hated.

I can never tell the time anymore

it keeps on making my future

unattainable.

I am losing my witching powers

and becoming too normal

I dislike people

and only want them one on one.

Groups are killing my spirit

eating up my leftovers

and wiping their mouth

with glee

at my destruction.

I just can’t tell anymore

if love

is real.

Ageless

I know that age matters not

right now, but then it did.

It mattered when we raced against

the wind. I was just a babe in your arms.

You were a man even as a teenager.

You had this way of bringing me love

on a tray, and spoiling me until

I was full on your love. I had it

all, for a brief time. I showed you

my cuts and bruises

and you kissed them. Your lips

on my shoulders within seconds.

My hands unbuckling your belt

in such a frantic youthful way

in an ageless time

between this world and the next.

Let’s remember where we were

and lament the age of us.

It matters that you see past

the girl. We felt invincible

and will never know that freedom

again, that youthful love we held

onto so naurally.

In the Middle

Once I was at the end of the love song

crying for years because it was over

before it even began. We were caught

loving the wrong person. I immersed

from my drowning and swam to the

beginning of the line. I sailed across

your poems and floated on your words.

You sent them to me by mail, on out-

dated postcards, you wrote them on

the back of my hand with your

fingertips. I sent you magic and

illusions with one needle on your

arm. We lived in a movie and

recited Shakespeare naked in bed.

You were not even close to being

who I thought you were. I was

too much for you to handle back

then, wanting to do everything

and doing absolutely nothing

about it. I climbed Mont-Royal

in heels and you laughed at

my absurdities. I was spontaneous

and explosive, until I wasn’t anymore.

I bent backwards on words

and the power of your hands.

Now I’m in the middle of something

that will change me forever.

I will never bet that girl again.

I have to be someone I thought

I would never be. Life throws you

these wicked curveballs

and I am catching them,

ready to be stuck here

hoping that it will not get

worse. All this hope

for songwriters and poets

but for a regular woman like me

it’s a waste of my time.

Book Review of “Only You” by David Wesley Anderson

     Only You is a poetry book that feels as if there is no beginning or end; one poem flows into another. David Wesley Anderson writes without titles or punctuation. He laments and describes a fiery love affair.
The theme conveyed in this book is one of feeling of feeling at peace, spiritually, emotionally and sexually in unison with one’s partner. The poet describes orgasms and sexual pleasure with details and by explicit memory. At times, the poems feel choppy without the punctuation, but the desire and the passion illustrated between the lovers is undeniable.O
It feels as if I you are reading a love affair come alive.
In this passage, we can see how Anderson portrays the need of wanting someone, but also the resistance entailed.
“I know the way

to your door

but you keep

changing the fabric

of the lock”
There are some brilliant lines among these poems, but the fact that the poems have no endings and they continue from one page to another makes it for a harder read due to the fact that you don’t know where to pause or take a break.
There are numerous passages that illustrate how erotic Anderson’s poetry can get as well as evoking sexual prowess.
The middle section of the book is an erotic tale, filled with sex scenes, fantasy and magic connections. It is how lovers explore each other’s bodies in a sexual, longing manner; being a fantasy lover in a primal sexual instinct,
“That pervasive need

to be wanted

beneath you

and that unrelenting

tide rocking me

into an escape

where colours shift

and eyes glide.”
Lust takes over the remaining end of the book, as Anderson depicts two naked bodies glistening with want and desire. He describes a deep, spiritual and sexual connection. The lovers tell each other they will explore their bodies and give pleasure. Red is a constant color that runs as a theme throughout the poetry book, red lips, etc.
“Let us run babe

and trip into the

eyes of our sun

where we mix

and melt in flames

sparkling red we

dare to fall further

into each other now

sometimes i long to

be spread out by you

to be torn inch by red

inch through fingers.”
The poems in Only You are centred in the middle of the page and some of the poems have the illusion of a naked woman’s torso and hips. It is visually beautiful to see how the words transform into a body and pleasant to read in this creative manner of writing.
It feels as if I am reading an epic love poem. The book ends on this sexual high that only lovers feel.
Only You is unique in its layout and reads quickly and easily. If you want to check out David Wesley Anderson’s Social media links and purchase his book please click below.
David (D. Wesley A.) is a self proclaimed micro poet finding rhyme and reason within 140 characters. His themes revolve around love and their impact on the intimacy of both the individual and couple. He has published three chapbooks and two full length books of micro poetry. He is currently working on a third book to be released soon. He lives currently in New York City.
dwesleya.com

https://www.facebook.com/dwesleya/

https://www.instagram.com/dwesleyanderson/
https://www.amazon.ca/Only-You-David-Wesley-Anderson/dp/1541297091/ref=sr_1_1?tag=geolinkerca-20&s=books

Date

I want this date to last more than hours

but you never even made it to the restaurant.

It is so fine with me, I would rather eat alone

and dip my fries in sauce and eat like a pig

and not be judged for using too many conjunctions.

I want you, I really do, but I am changing

every day into an evolved woman. Not yet

married, divorced, separated, cheated,

I am only a young girl wanting someone

who I can never have because then all

the morals written in my chest will be

broken. I will feel broken in this city

we can never see each other in. I already

see the future of Sundays turning

into every other day.

You are so close to my house

and even if you drive by

I will have aged like a dog.

You will have had a multitude

of women while I am hooked

on one life line. It is this way

for I drive my own car and

let no one guide me.

I know which walls to put up

and which ones to let you in

but remember a date is

just a time and place

when two people

either show up

or decide otherwise.

Either way, it’s a date.